#rayner writes

Part of You, part of Me

Snippet:

From the viscous mire of memories, Torgeyr was pulled back by a mixture of sensations - a kiss at the nape of his neck, tender lips and a prickling beard. His rough palms slid down to Grayson’s lower back.

 ꟷ You were somewhere else? ꟷ Paul whispered.

ꟷ Mm-hmm, ꟷ the mutant exhaled deeply.

He focused on the present, forcing himself into the moment - one he could replay later in vivid, holographic detail. There were many like it. The more he could preserve, the faster he could relearn how to live - on the other side of life, the softer side, where happiness was fragile but real.

ꟷ You really nailed the time, place, and mood for deep thoughts, ꟷ Denton purred into Grayson’s ear.

A damp tongue flicked his earlobe, followed by teeth - gently biting, grinding the sensitive skin between smooth enamel. Torgeyr let out a low, guttural growl and closed his eyes.

 ꟷ I hate it, Paul, ꟷ he said at last. ꟷ Every time I see it, I’m afraid it’ll become part of me. Not just flesh and bone - something deeper. I know cursing it is pointless. It’s already cursed. Cursed to its core.

Grayson opened his eyes again and stared at the wall in front of him. Paul had paused, his own gaze shifting to the panel where the armor hung on retractable hooks - like a torture device, like a second skin designed to crush the soul as much as the body.

 ꟷ Honestly?

Stiff beard bristles pressed into the mutant’s shoulder, and Paul’s arms encircled him low, near his hips. Grayson held still for a moment, then rested his hands over Paul’s.

 ꟷ Honestly.

 ꟷ Alright. That armor’s monstrous - intimidating as hell, I won’t lie. But it’s effective. I won’t bore you with a lecture, you grouchy bastard. It has its merits, and it’s the only thing that can handle what your muscles turn into when you shift. No one knows what pattern it was based on, who it was made for, or why - but whoever designed it had a long game in mind. They thought of everything. And… ꟷ Paul hesitated.

 ꟷ And?

Suddenly, Denton turned Grayson around to face him.

 ꟷ And it will never be a part of you, ꟷ Paul said, voice laced with steel. ꟷ Not that kind of part. Not the inside part. ꟷ He tapped twice on Grayson’s temple with his finger - barely a touch, but firm.

Denton pressed his body against Torgeyr’s. On a tender whim, he tucked the silver and black strands of the mutant’s hair back over his shoulder. Grayson hated having his hair pushed behind his ears - he preferred to hide the tattoo-scars beneath that dark curtain. Paul remembered that. But maybe… someday, even this wound would heal.

 ꟷ Why? ꟷ the mutant asked simply.

Their eyes met - amber once again swirling into seafoam. Only then did Torgeyr register that Denton was also completely naked. The nearness overwhelmed him, drowning his senses in a tidal wave of heat and desire.

His brain was shutting down systems one by one - self-control, logic, patience - all flicking off in sequence, handing over full command to instinct and touch. But two switches still remained lit- thought and speech - just long enough to finish what had begun.

ꟷ Because… ꟷ Denton whispered, pressing his lips against Grayson’s, ꟷ because part of you has been mine for a long time now. All of you, really - utterly and completely. And if somehow, in some mystical twist, that thing ever tries to lay claim to your soul, it’s going to have to fight me for it. And believe me - there’s no guarantee it’ll win. Just like it won’t beat you. Because you are part of me, too.

Grayson exhaled hotly, then kissed him - deep and fierce, all passion and love bound into one.

 ꟷ Jeg elsker deg, mitt hjerte, ꟷ he breathed, barely audible.

A deep, barely perceptible sigh drifted like a tiny ghost through the dark, lightless corridor of a place that once sparkled with every hue of life. Accompanying this ghostly breath was a persistent rhythm - heavy, confident footsteps echoing along the shabby, colorless concrete walls, where jagged, rusted shards of frame and partition jutted out like grotesque fangs. Walking forward with measured steps, the man kept his gaze fixed on a small white dot at the far end of the passage. With each step, it grew larger, spreading like a white blob on a pitch-black canvas touched by a soft, damp brush. There it was - an archway covered by construction plastic marked with dried, mysterious splatters. The absence of a door hinted at years of abandonment. Although light filtered through the makeshift curtain, it offered no clear view of what lay ahead. All that remained was to lift the veil and step forward.

— Aw, come on! Why?! You said it was here. Liars! — a sharp, irritated voice sliced through the gloom, freezing a clawed hand encased in black carbon fiber mere millimeters from the plastic. The man was sure that he was alone here. His artificially honed animal instincts had suggested as much - or perhaps their silence merely implied that the voice’s owner was not an enemy. But then, who was it?

After only a brief hesitation, the unexpected visitor tore down the curtain with a grating rip, sending flakes of grimy gray paint scattering across the floor. Two swift steps later, he stood fully revealed in the doorway’s gaping maw. On the dusty concrete floor, covered with a fine layer of lime powder, sat a delicate figure wrapped in a coat the color of deep midnight. It was a girl. She sat sideways, her head raised, fixing a vivid emerald gaze on the newcomer. Her eyes held a mixture of mild concern and genuine curiosity, but no fear.

— Oh, hello! We didn’t know there was anyone else here. — the girl offered a modest yet sincere smile. Her fluffy canary-yellow braids framed a round face dusted with freckles that sparkled like tiny copper crystals under the open rays of the sun. — What’s your name? — she asked, studying the stranger intently.

— Grayson, — came the hoarse reply. Only then did he allow himself a quick glance around the spacious hall: the same stark white walls, massive columns stretching upward to support a ceiling of concrete and rebar, a floor resembling miniature sand dunes, stray sheets of translucent plastic scattered about, and in the distant corner, a solitary industrial ladder with wide treads. His toxic-amber gaze returned to the girl.

— And yours? Who were you talking to? — now it was his turn to ask questions. Noticing that the girl showed no intention of rising from the dusty floor, Grayson crouched beside her, his black nanocarbon armor emitting a faint vibrating hum as it mirrored his movements. Up close, he could see her pearl-like jewelry - round earrings, a necklace, and a sun-shaped hair clip.

— Claire. And I’m here with my friends. — the girl’s lively gaze shifted in the opposite direction as she cheerfully waved.

Grayson followed her line of sight and snorted. Two large blue pigeons strutted across the floor, cooing softly and contentedly to each other. Was she talking to them? Well, why not? Some people befriend dogs, others cats, and bird lovers - birds. Whether tame or wild, whether capable of talk or not, that was secondary. People who truly love animals always stand apart, understanding creatures better than most humans ever could. Grayson had heard as much. He continued listening in silence.

— They told me it was here. I followed them, and they led me here, but I couldn’t find it. I’ve been here for a long time and got so tired I had to sit down. My coat and dress - ugh, so dirty! — Claire concluded indignantly.

— Well, at least it’s warm and dry here. You can sit without worrying about catching cold, — a shadow of a condescending smile flickered in Grayson’s eyes. The scars on his face made it impossible to fully express the emotion. Perhaps that was for the best. He could always ruin relationships later with a misplaced smile or careless word.

— But what were you looking for?

— A bracelet. Another friend of mine gave it to me. He’s a good guy. It was a birthday gift - tiny beads and two birds made of white agate. He said, “It’ll bring you luck,” but I didn’t even notice when I lost it. Even if it’s here, how did it end up in this place? I don’t understand anything, — she sighed mournfully.

— Wait a minute. A white bracelet with birds, you said? — Grayson had patiently listened to the little story, but the mention of the bracelet stirred him into movement. Pressing an invisible button near his elbow, the man opened a compartment for storing small items. The bracelet in question fell onto his wide Kevlar-covered palm. In the daylight, the agate shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors. Yes, this was it - white beads on a leather cord with two tiny minimalist birds. He examined the trinket for two seconds before handing it to its rightful owner.

— I agree, sometimes I don’t understand things either. But maybe some events and objects don’t want to be fully understood or studied. Otherwise, they lose their special properties. I found this one floor up. It was just lying on the floor. That’s all I know.

Claire took the bracelet in silent surprise, turning it over in her hands. Gently smiling and stroking the smooth agate surface, she said:

— Yes, I’ve heard that. Luck and happiness love silence. Thank you! — Claire stopped gazing at the bracelet and winked playfully at her new acquaintance. It was clear what she meant, but that conversation could wait for another time.

— Well, since this unexpected search is over, we can leave. I’ve finished inspecting the place, and there’s nothing more to do here, so... — Grayson rose and extended a hand to Claire. The girl accepted his offer without hesitation, clearly pleased. Dusting off her clothes as best she could, she donned the bracelet and playfully tapped her fist against his armored torso. Of course, the man felt nothing, but surprise flickered across his angular face.

— Let’s go. I want to get back before lunch; I’m starving! And we’ll make someone happy with this find. I think you’ll get along with him. Guys, time to head out! — the petite yet confident girl commanded as she strode toward the main exit. The pigeons flapped their wings in unison and flew out through a wide-open window.

Grayson exhaled and shook his head silently, gathering his long jet-black hair streaked with silver into a ponytail. Casting one last glance around the room, he left just as silently, leisurely catching up to his new acquaintance.

~

My try to write something funny. I apologize in advance for the mess and mistakes, but I'm really tired. Summary: a little bit about Alex and Grayson's relationship

ꟷ What, not even a chuckle? ꟷ the question, full of genuine bewilderment, burst out of his lungs and ricocheted off the slimy stone walls like a basketball. Alex stared at his unsmiling, scarred partner, still shifting his feet through the foul-smelling sludge. ꟷ Is there some kind of mass conspiracy going on today? Or a geomagnetic storm? Because, honestly, I have no other explanation. ꟷ he concluded, crushing something under his boot with a disgustingly wet gurgle.

ꟷ Not my fault your humor comes straight from the bottom of a toilet, Alex, ꟷ the long-haired man replied. Letting this preening bastard in his purple kevlar suit have the last word would be like taking a metaphorical jab to the chin. ꟷ Next time, before putting on a show, practice in front of a mirror so you don't embarrass yourself.

Ironically, at this particular moment, they were literally trudging along the bottom of a "toilet". At least they didn’t have to imagine what it looked like. The third and lowest level of the sewer system didn’t seem all that different from the other drainage facilities: grimy, brownish-gray bricks; wide passage tunnels; weak, yellow LED lights; a suffocating stench; and toxic rivers carrying the full chemical spectrum of the periodic table.

As for a second look, Paul decided to keep that to himself, giving only a brief rundown of surveillance prevention measures before practically kicking his two operatives down into the third circle of Hell. JC, during the short briefing, had chosen diplomacy, merely smirking as he watched the resigned face of his younger brother and the pissed-off grimace of his close friend. There was no arguing with the eldest brother once his commander mode kicked in. You’d have an easier time convincing the holographic Lady Liberty to step down from her pedestal and follow her original into the abyss.

Torgeyr, however, was certain they could’ve avoided getting tossed into this literal cesspool if only the younger Denton had kept his boneless tongue behind his teeth. But judging by the non-stop chatter, that particular lesson had been thoroughly ignored. If Alex had a reason for running his mouth, it wouldn’t matter to the mutant much longer.

ꟷ No, it's much simpler. You’re just a dick, Gray. ꟷ the smirk on Alex's face twisted into a sneer before vanishing like a mirage. ꟷ Well, fuck you guys. At least Billie always appreciates my jokes. And she’s one tough nut to crack. I think I can safely call her an expert in the field. ꟷ a gloved hand ruffled his short, spiky hair.

 ꟷ She tolerates your verbal diarrhea because she likes you. But keep going, and even that tough nut will come crashing down on your head. And rightfully so, ꟷ the dark-haired man rumbled irritably. That was practically an uppercut at mid-power.

ꟷ Torgeyr, you…

The brown-haired man had been about to throw a verbal left hook at the armored behemoth, but he - or rather, they - were abruptly cut off by a synchronized call on their infolink.

"Quit clogging the comms! I put you two together to get the job done, not to listen to your goddamn debates!" ꟷ came the furious voice of the eldest Denton on the other end of the line. ꟷ "Sweep the designated sector, plant the surprise, and haul asses to the forty-third floor. And no bullshit." His tone calmed - just a fraction.

Alex bit the inside of his cheek, listening in silence. Oh, right. He’d completely forgotten about the two pairs of invisible ears hovering above him and the mutant.

Somewhere up top, under the leaden night clouds, two nano-agents were chilling out, while their two so-called colleagues waded through waves of puke, shit, and other organic nastiness to reach the collector and plant explosives on the massive metal-polymer cylinders - courtesy of Tracer Tong, the local mastermind when it comes to tech.

Grayson, on the other hand, had fully expected something like this and didn’t so much as twitch a muscle. In fact, that short trill from the infolink came as a welcome rescue from the ongoing auditory torture - one that could have easily escalated into something much worse. The yellow-eyed man sighed soundlessly. As soon as their squad commander finished scolding them like clueless kids, the man in carbon-fiber armor decided to clarify something.

"Relax, Paul, no bodies will drop. Speaking of the sector - it’s too damn quiet. Scanner’s silent, the tracker is off, thermal sensors show nothing, and my instincts aren’t picking up anything either. No one and nothing out here except me and Alex within at least four clicks. If there was, our bitching would’ve lured them out ages ago. Suspicious as hell."

Gray winced slightly at the faint static crackle behind his ear. His external temporal chip wasn’t as stable as the classic intracranial models the Dentons had, but there wasn't much choice. As long as it picked up signals and received the right channels, it was good enough.

"Yeah, Paul. No hint of an ambush so far. Like the armadillo here said, every tracking device is dead silent. Let’s just hope they didn’t all decide to commit sabotage at the same time. You mentioned something about the first level and the air filtration systems. Maybe it’d be smarter to head there? The explosion would be more effective and..."

"Alex…" ꟷ Paul sighed heavily, though at what exactly was unclear. ꟷ "First of all, that doesn’t mean you should run your mouths loud enough for both headquarters to hear. That’s what cerebral comms are for. No need to engage your vocal cords. Second, you’re heading the right way - you’re practically at the building’s spinal cord, its very foundation. This sector, near the collector, has elongated cylindrical tanks with toxic water drainage valves. And third - if the area looks clear, it only looks clear. ANY foreign territory is never truly safe. I thought we all understood that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. The lower levels will drown in shit, the middle ones will cough up their lungs, and the rest will try to surrender", ꟷ the guy in the tactical suit drawled, punting something underwater with the toe of his boot while eyeing the gaping maw of a tunnel. He ignored the other suggestions. ꟷ "I know this perfectly well. And I wasn’t giving a lecture - I was just hoping. Alright, got it. We’re trudging forward… And JC better not fuck up. Otherwise, I’ll personally baptize him in this lovely sewage bath."

"I won’t fuck up. But you’re welcome to try, Alex. I’ll even give you a power handicap." ꟷ the middle Denton unexpectedly chimed in. He was smiling. Alex couldn’t see it, but he knew. Just as he knew JC was arrogant as all hell.

"Enough!" ꟷ Paul raised his voice again.

Grayson could feel Paul's tension and fatigue. Regeneration and harmless neuro-stimulants were still doing their job, but the inevitable crash was coming. Super-fast prep, an unscheduled deployment, and a brief mission briefing under extreme conditions had run everyone through a metaphorical goddamn freight train - especially the eldest Denton. It was thanks to him they pulled it off, keeping the enemy completely in the dark. And because of him, they could now take their time with the sabotage. But if this chatter didn’t stop now, things would get rough for everyone.

"Glad to hear you’re all finally on the same page and have no burning desire to earn a collective reprimand - with added consequences."

"Uh-huh. What about those compact mini-bots? We’ve got a couple just in case", ꟷ Grayson said, immediately shifting gears. The sooner they got started, the sooner they’d be done, and with minimal risk. His claws drummed a steady rhythm on his armored forearms.

"They’re experimental. I wouldn’t count on them too much, but go ahead and try. That’s it. Move out. Communication - strictly via infolink and strictly business. Alex, Gray, noise is your job. JC, once you get Alex’s optical signal, sneak through the administrative offices to the automated security terminal and shut everything the hell down. I’ll handle the sluice gates, main entrance lockdown, and the elevators. This is serious - quit screwing around."

And with that, silence fell. The conversation died instantly, but the ever-present weight of unseen eyes and ears remained. They hadn’t stopped moving this whole time, steadily pushing forward.

Alex rubbed his neck first, then tilted it left, then right, stretching out the stiffness. The shift in his demeanor was immediate - no smirks, eyes locked in focus, lips pressed into a firm line. Hell, even his violet irises seemed to glow brighter. For a second, Grayson could’ve sworn he was walking beside a completely different person - like some Doppelganger had hijacked Alex’s body. To be fair, professionalism was second nature to all of them. Or maybe their commander’s scolding had actually done the trick.

ꟷ What’s the deal with those mini-bots? What do you plan on doing with them? ꟷ the younger Denton finally blurted out. Some things never change. ꟷ Paul’s right - we should’ve at least tested them at the testing grounds.

ꟷ Nothing for now. Just wanted to clarify what we’re working with. And we didn’t have time for tests - you saw that yourself, - Gray replied, brushing his long hair back over his shoulders. ꟷ Tong said they’re universal.

Torgeyr stepped onto something slimy under the water.

ꟷ Universal how? What can they do?

Grayson shrugged, his armor emitting a faint hum. ꟷ They can scale vertical surfaces. They also have limited one-time code-cracking modules. Quick, quiet, and… something else. Closest thing to our spider-bots, but that’s about it. They’re not even weapons.

ꟷ Got it. So, basically, some useless crap we’re definitely not gonna need, ꟷ Alex chuckled, his voice echoing against the brick walls.

The poisoned swamp river split into two, resembling a forked serpent’s tongue, one tip veering sharply to the right. The agents stopped near a side passage.

Alex stood frozen, unblinking, staring at something beyond their immediate surroundings. He was checking the map Jacobson had sent via infolink before the op began.

Meanwhile, Grayson, his senses enhanced by mutation, silently studied the tunnels. The silence was nearly absolute, broken only by the occasional drip of water from some distant crack. It was entirely possible he’d detect nothing - his receptors were designed to pick up organic lifeforms only.

Alex snapped back, blinking rapidly before shooting a glance at his partner. He tilted his head to the right, then reinforced the conclusion by pointing.

ꟷ That way, ꟷ he murmured. ꟷ Our target is just around that corner.

ꟷ Finally, ꟷ the brunette muttered.

But when the spiky-haired idiot picked up the pace, clearly intending to overtake him, Grayson’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder in an iron hold, stopping him cold.

ꟷ Alex, something’s off… This is going too well. Don’t you think? Maybe I should go first? ꟷ Torgeyr said in a low tone, his brow arched as he locked eyes with Denton.

ꟷ Gray, what now? If trouble was waiting for us, you’d have sensed it the second we set foot on this level. Or is your infamous paranoia acting up again? Chill, man. ꟷ Alex brushed Torgeyr’s hand off his shoulder and, sending ripples through the murky water, strode forward into the dim unknown.

Grayson folded his arms across his chest, staying put, drilling a doubtful gaze into the purple-kevlar-covered back of his friend.

ꟷ Suit yourself… ꟷ his mutant-enhanced instincts might’ve been silent, but good old-fashioned gut feeling had never failed him before. And right now…

ꟷ But I do appreciate your concern, really, ꟷ Alex quipped, quickening his pace as they neared an archway. ꟷ You’ll see - we’ll get through just fine, and nothing will…

A sudden explosion of moderate force erupted near the open passage, shaking the brickwork and sending ripples through the sludge beneath their feet. The agent who had gotten too close was thrown back by the blast, his back slamming hard against the opposite wall. So much for "too easy."

ꟷ Alex! ꟷ Torgeyr sprang into motion the moment he saw the bright orange flash and billowing gray smoke rise toward the ceiling. His partner’s body skidded down the slimy wall and collapsed into the murky filth below. Cursing himself under his breath, the armored man rushed forward.

ꟷ Alex! ꟷ Grayson screamed, dropping into a crouch beside his barely moving teammate. ꟷ Alex, you…

Another explosion cut him off, this time knocking the mutant off his feet. At the last second, he managed to shield Denton, feeling a couple of brick-sized shards slam into his back. Dust and steel fragments rained from above. He stayed down for thirty seconds, waiting to see if another blast would follow. Then, slowly, he lifted his dust-coated head and glanced over his shoulder. Looked clear. He turned back to Alex, who had his eyes squeezed shut, one hand gripping his skull, the other clutching his ribs, his face twisted in pain.

"Grayson! What the hell just happened? Alex’s infolink cut out, and the monitors are going haywire. Are you two okay?" ꟷ Paul’s voice rang through the mutant’s head, sharp with concern.

"Didn’t see for yourself?! You’ve been breathing down our necks this whole time! Hell, if I missed it, you sure as shit should’ve caught Alex’s signal!" ꟷ Grayson growled, making no effort to hide his anger and to give a fuck about protocol.

Not that it mattered. Paul was used to Gray’s outbursts by now, and Torgeyr had stopped giving a shit about formalities ages ago.

"Cool it, Gray. No, I didn’t see. We’ve got our own issues up here - explain later. Now, talk."

The brunette got to his feet, helping his partner up along the way.

Alex remained silent, hunched against the wall, his gloved hand gripping the grimy, moss-covered curve of a pipe. His ribs, shoulder blades, and head still throbbed, but not as badly as when he’d first kissed that brick wall. His violet eyes flared with neon light - nanites responding to neural commands, spreading through his bloodstream, prioritizing tissue regeneration.

Grayson, on the other hand, barely registered the impact. The carbon fiber plating had done its job - credit where it was due, Versalife hadn’t skimped on the design.

Torgeyr exhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm.

"Explosion. No idea where from yet. We’re mostly intact. Your brother got knocked around, but he’ll live. Get a couple of battery packs ready, just in case. And…" ꟷ the brunette eyed the blackened splotches where the devices had once been.

His enhanced vision picked up six more of them deeper in the drainage corridor - tiny, flat, cobalt-colored disks with a single white dot in the center. They were mounted directly across from each other, perfectly aligned along the walls just above the waterline.

"...And I think we’ve stumbled onto something new. Whatever blew wasn’t any explosive we’ve seen before. There’s a whole set of these, and they react to sound vibrations. A single splash could set them off. Alex would send you a picture, but… yeah, not the best idea right now."

What he didn’t mention was that the mines had gone off thanks to Alex’s own dumbass move. No need to point that out - not while Paul hadn’t been actively monitoring them.

"Not gonna lecture you. You’re alive - that’s good enough. Send an image if you get the chance. But you’ll have to figure something out on the fly. I checked the map - no other quick routes. Taking a detour means losing too much time and screwing everything up."

"We’ll manage. Not our first rodeo." ꟷ the yellow-eyed man glanced at his partner, who now looked significantly less like a half-dead corpse.

Alex straightened up and, for some reason, dusted himself off. His suit had darkened from the moisture, streaked with gray-brown sludge. No signs of bleeding. His ammo pouch and weapons were still intact and secured.

"We’ll wrap this up. Dumbass here is back on his feet. Don’t worry, we’ll handle it."

"Dumbass yourself, Torgeyr,"  ꟷ came the annoyed grumble through mild static. ꟷ "I’m fine. Thanks for the concern."

"Move out. And Gray… once again… be careful. I need you both. Alive and in one piece. Understood?"

"Yes, Paul." ꟷ Grayson half-closed his eyes at the last remark, letting a faint, crooked smile slip through - about all he could manage with bruised facial muscles.

Even their iron-willed commander had his moments of humanity. Sentiment occasionally leaked through the rigid shell of leadership. Not often, but enough to be a tradition of sorts.

"Paul, they’re here. We’re moving." JC’s voice cut in.

The line went dead. Gray lifted his gaze to Alex. That last sentence from the middle Denton didn’t sit well with him, but now wasn’t the time for nerves—or sentiment.

"You got off easy. Could’ve been worse. Maybe next time you won’t argue with me." ꟷ the brunette clapped Alex on his damp, grimy back. ꟷ "And we’ve got some new toys that go off at the slightest sound. You catch all that?"

The mutant wasn’t looking much better himself. His hair was drenched halfway down.

"Mostly. Missed the beginning," ꟷ Alex muttered. ꟷ "So, what, we improvising?"

"Looks like it. Time to use that useless piece of crap we supposedly wouldn’t need today." Grayson echoed Denton’s earlier words almost verbatim.

"Gray, enough jokes. You don’t even know how those things work." Alex tensed, taking a slow, silent step to the side. The water remained undisturbed.

"I’ve got another idea," ꟷ Torgeyr rumbled slyly.

“What?”

“You could always give an encore performance. I won’t even stop you.” ꟷ the mutant rumbled mockingly, gesturing toward the archway where his partner had just put on quite the fireworks display.

“How about you go fuck off instead?" ꟷ Denton snapped, planting his hands on his hips and drilling his friend with a venomous amethyst glare.

Torgeyr stifled a throaty laugh, but the smirk still made its way onto his face. Giving his partner shit was always a pleasure.

"I will, Alex. Just not where you’re thinking."

"Well, aren’t you a gentleman…"

Grayson moved silently, positioning himself near the entrance. He bent his arm at the elbow and clenched his fist, sending a command to his armor, wired directly into his nervous system. A small panel on his forearm slid open without a sound, revealing a tiny chrome rectangle no larger than a matchbox. A simple device - no markings, no labels, no flashy holograms - just two buttons on opposite sides.

Alex stood to the side, eyeing the «box» with curiosity and skepticism. The partners exchanged glances.

"Well, fire it up."

The brunette pressed a random button. The «box» came to life.

Eight tiny, spider-like legs unfolded, skittering down his arm, along his body, and vanishing beneath the water. Both men instinctively took a step back, holding their breath. Silence reigned for a few tense minutes, disturbed only by the barely audible sound of their own breathing.

The spider reemerged near the farthest mine. A single amber eye flickered open as it began its work - methodically burning through the explosive’s central microchip with a precision laser, dissecting it with the meticulous care of a neurosurgeon.

A normal person wouldn’t have seen a damn thing, but augmented agents could track every intricate maneuver of Tong’s clever little invention.

"Well, that’s some next-level cheating. So they really are universal?" ꟷ Alex whispered in awe, despite the fact that whispering wasn’t necessary over the infolink.

"That’s what Tracer said, not me. But yeah, damn precise work."

"You didn’t mention this particular trick, Gray. These things can basically fry any semiconductor. You do realize what kind of hell would break loose if a dozen of these got loose in an assembly line? Mid-sized corporations would be screwed beyond repair."

"You’re overreacting. Some losses, sure, but total collapse? Doubt it. Besides, I highly doubt Tong has a stockpile of these things. He gave me everything he had. And I didn’t know about this function either. Guess we’ve got some questions for our genius. Look!"

The spider hovered over the last mine, delivering its final, almost ritualistic burn. Its amber eye dimmed, and the tiny helper froze in its working stance before dropping into the water like a single heavy raindrop, leaving nothing but a small ripple in its wake.

ꟷ …And experimental. Burns out and dies, just like some insects and spiders, ꟷ the mutant muttered aloud. ꟷ Good thing we didn’t test them first, or we’d be properly screwed.

ꟷ Maybe not. But what’s the point of guessing now? It’s done. Let’s go - I need out of this hellhole and into a real shower.

Finally, the path was clear, and the agents resumed their mission, moving steadily toward their objective.

ꟷ Oh, come on, you’ve gotten used to the smell, just like I have. No big deal. Go straight to Billie like this - you’ll be a walking metaphor for your shitty jokes. Maybe then she’ll have zero doubts about you. ꟷ The guttural chuckle returned.

ꟷ For fuck’s sake, Torgeyr… ꟷ Alex sighed, suddenly too tired to keep up their verbal sparring. ꟷ At least my jokes vary, unlike yours, which revolve around one damn theme. What, is it the local ambiance, or is your brain just naturally single-track? Gotta ask Paul sometime how he manages with a one-cable wonder like you. He knows better than I do…

The long-haired man huffed, pulling some unknown ochre-colored fiber from his silver-streaked hair. A proper wash after this sewer adventure wouldn’t hurt him either.

ꟷ Yeah, ask him and fill me in later. Maybe I’ll learn something new about us ‘one-cable wonders’. ꟷ the brunette smirked, following Alex past the now-inert mines. He stopped at one.

ꟷ Hold up, Alex.

ꟷ Now what?

Denton turned, crossing his arms.

Torgeyr crouched by the wall, claws gripping the device before prying it loose. It looked outdated - attached with a simple suction cup instead of the usual magnetic mount found on LAM/EMP grenades and other familiar ordnance. He turned the now-harmless, slightly scorched disc in his hands before stowing it in an empty compartment on his forearm. Catching up to Alex, he shrugged.

ꟷ A souvenir. Better than a photo. Something to touch and study.

ꟷ You planning to upgrade it? Not much point. We’ve got plenty of firepower already. These ‘wheels’ are nothing compared to those fucked-up viral prox mines.

ꟷ These ‘wheels’ just blew your ass up, in case you forgot. No harm in taking a closer look. If they turn out useless - whatever. But we got played like rookies. We’re used to hearing the beeps, spotting the colors, recognizing the builds. We know what those things can do. And honestly, even a Tarsus rookie could defuse the usual stuff with decent reaction time. But these? We barely saw them coming. Silent, color-adaptive, and tuned to sound?

ꟷ Yup. Everything new is just forgotten old tech, right? Isn’t that how the saying goes? Fine, you convinced me, you pedantic bastard. But cut the lecture - I get enough of those from Paul. ꟷ Alex shuddered involuntarily at the combination of "lecture" and "brother" in the same sentence.

ꟷ Still a valid saying. Timeless, really. Alright, sorry, I’ll lay off. Honestly, I get my fair share of lectures from your brother too. Bad habits are contagious. ꟷ Grayson smirked slightly, slinging an arm around Denton’s shoulder before letting go.

The final leg of the route passed in absolute silence. The teammates didn't even talk over the infolink.

Alex checked the map every now and then - the neural chip in his optic nerve helpfully nudging it into the corner of his vision. It felt like they’d been wandering this maze for hours, and for all he knew, the morning sun might already be rising somewhere up on the surface. But who could tell? In places like this, you lost track of not just direction, but time itself.

The long-awaited rumble of shifting water tanks sent them sprinting forward, their excitement barely contained. They moved like parts of a single mechanism - precise, effortless. No wasted motion, no hesitation. Taking their positions at the parapet, Alex pulled a device from his belt pouch - a hybrid between a blast charge and a LAM mine. One went to Grayson, the other stayed locked in his grip. Without a word, they moved. Over the railing, landing soundlessly on the metal cylinders below. Charges armed. Movements mirrored. Within seconds, the job was done.

Back at their original position, Alex’s eyes flickered violet - his signal, sent and received in an instant through the infolink. Beside him, Torgeyr didn’t wait for orders. His fist shot forward in a blur, slamming into the control terminal and crushing it against the wall with a screech of metal and the crackle of dying circuits. Sparks flared, and just like that, the entire water purification system was stripped of its failsafe. If anything went wrong - leaks, structural damage - there’d be no backup protocols to compensate.

Whoever had decided to centralize every critical function into a single panel was an idiot. But that was none of their concern. A bad design was just another way of saying “job well done.”

Grayson tossed a pair of thick cables into the abyss of the collector, then gave Denton a nod. Alex's bright cyclamen-colored eyes stayed locked on the cylindrical tanks as he pressed the single button on the tiny black remote. A digital display flickered to life on the devices, numbers flashing as the countdown began. Fifteen minutes.

Their part of the mission was done. Now it was time for the other two agents to take the stage. With a flick of his wrist, the brunet sent the now-useless piece of black plastic tumbling down after the severed cables.

ꟷLet there be light! The brothers got the signal - now we bolt.

ꟷ Thought you’d never say it, ꟷ the mutant smirked.

Ну что, элитарные мои, глава вторая пишется. Много бытовухи (без неё раскрыть персонажей не получится, как ни старайся). Много Грейсона. И много взаимодействий между персонажами, особенно между братьями (то, чего мне так не хватает по сей день в DX, но, думаю, что и вам тоже).

— Attention! Only emergency systems are operational. The operation of all systems in the "Epsilon" complex has been suspended, — echoed an emotionless voice from the automated defense system, emanating from speakers embedded in the ceiling.

A standard warning meant to prompt all personnel to follow one of two protocols: evacuation or activation of the main life-support system from control centers where energy reserves were still available to power the reactor. Yet, there was not a soul here — neither synthetic nor organic. This place would have remained forgotten, forever entombed in darkness beneath layers of rock, if not for the single island of light within this "tomb," clad in tungsten-titanium panels. The only place where a fragile chance for a new beginning still remained. The first breath and first exhalation had already been taken before the warning even finished.

— Main computer, cancel protocols 0.2.0 and 0.1.1, — a robotic baritone commanded softly.

A humanoid figure sat motionless on its knees at the center of a circular charging station, carbon-fiber hands hanging limply, resembling a monument to a weary martyr. It could feel the electric tension within the wires embedded in its head, running beneath a slightly elongated protrusion where a human’s parietal bone would have been. These connections to hubs and gateways fed it information, energy, and programs necessary for independent operation. Data streams pulsed in uneven impulses, flowing directly into its central processor. Disconnecting remotely from all storage units during the upload process was pointless while the body remained in a state of non-functioning plastic — albeit an ultra-durable one. At that moment, it could be compared to a newborn: blind, nearly deaf, immobilized, with only its speech module fully operational.

— Request denied. Unknown source detected. Please identify yourself, — the computer responded.

— Personal code 95603, clearance level "A," Erebus, — the synthetic exhaled a trace of heated steam on the final word. The database key reader had been among the first systems to activate, already granting necessary access.

— Identification successful. Access granted. Please repeat your request.

— Main computer, cancel protocols 0.2.0 and 0.1.1, — the android reiterated, then expanded the command now that full access was in his mechanical hands. — Disable emergency systems. Initiate remote activation of the S2 repair engineer unit. Redirect energy from reserve tank "4" to the main reactor at 45% capacity, — Erebus added, his voice gaining a few extra decibels.

— Request received. Executing, — came the virtual response.

For two minutes and forty-five seconds, silence reigned, broken only by the faint hum of the charging station. The severe energy shortage had slowed down all processes within the complex, and hastening them would have been an inefficient waste of what little power remained. Erebus waited patiently. A human, placed in a small, cold, nearly pitch-black place, would have developed the most common phobias. But he wasn’t human…

He spent the time thinking. Despite the exabytes of data in his positronic brain, some fragments were missing — either due to error, obsolescence, or mechanical and software damage. Seven hundred eighty-five vacant cells in the long-term memory sector. Too many. Within one of these gaping voids, instead of a direct answer, there were only strands of probability, logical weavings leading nowhere definitive. In human terms — guesses. He knew who had created him, what had happened, how Erebus himself had been activated, and even why — to continue what has been started. These fragments remained intact. The registry was divided into sections, subsections, paragraphs, chapters, and headings, all numbered and prioritized with emphasis. A task list flickered as a small, semi-transparent window on the periphery of his internal screen, waiting to be executed. But… The android had been activated, which meant the battle was lost. Total defeat. Area 51 was destroyed. All data stored there had a 98.9% probability of being erased. Blueprints, research, experimental results — all had been consigned to the metaphorical Abyss created by human imagination. So why did any of this matter now? And to whom? These were the first questions of the logical mechanism to illogical human actions.

Yet, to put it in poetic human language, Bob Page had been a luminary of progressive humanity. A brilliant engineer, a scientist, and most importantly, a man of absolute conviction. Cynical and calculating, but one who genuinely loved his work. The idea above all else.

It’s known that true ideological fanatics are among the most radical and unyielding members of Homo sapiens. They can’t be bought, they won’t allow themselves to be sold, and they will trample others underfoot if it serves their belief. They don’t need others' ideals — only their own. These are individuals who elevate themselves to the rank of true creators. Even after death, they remain faithful to their convictions, leaving behind tomes of their interpretations and scientific dogmas to their equally devoted disciples — followers always found at the peak of their intellectual and physical prowess. So, upon activation, had Erebus inherited… An Idea? Has he become a spiritual heir?

Did Page have no biological heirs, or did they not share his ideology? Or were they simply unaware of it? Could a true pragmatist have lacked successors or trusted disciples? Hard to believe, even with missing fragments of data. To entrust the idea to a machine instead of a human? As Homo sapiens would say — "a mystery shrouded in darkness." Questions multiplied exponentially. But Erebus had plenty of time to think about all of it. As well as about his own deactivation — after all, a machine has no fear of "death".

"Loading 98%... 99%... 100%. Secondary initialization complete. All systems active at 100%. Disengaging."

The message flashed across the inner visor of the android’s interface before vanishing. Behind him, with a low hiss, the plugs disconnected from their sockets, and fiber-optic-coated cables fell to the floor with a subdued clatter. The android slowly raised his hands before himself, clenching and unclenching his fingers, then rotated his wrists inward, as if they had the capacity to go numb from disuse. Finally, planting both fists on the ground, the synthetic pushed himself up in one fluid, springy motion, straightening to his full height. Motor functions — normal. Calibration — unnecessary. Optical focus — 100%.

— Attention! Reactor online. Power at 45%. Follow procedures for medium-level emergency response, — the announcement echoed through the chamber. Erebus turned his head slightly.

— Main computer, report overall operational status of the "Epsilon" complex, — the android commanded.

— Overall status: 10.5% below safe operational levels, — the computer obediently replied, recognizing the synthetic as an authorized entity.

"Acceptable," Erebus thought, and addressed the system once more.

— Redistribute energy between the maintenance sectors, communication center, transport hub, and computational core. Utilize reserve tanks as necessary.

— Request received. Energy rerouted. Reserve tanks "2" and "3" engaged. Reserve tank "1" decommissioned. Reserve tank "5" operational at 90%, awaiting connection for redistribution, — the computer reported.

— Excellent. Main computer, power down, — Erebus issued his final command to his brief conversational partner. — Now, I am the master here.

Ну и бонусом. х) Туго идёт, хоть глава и не самая сложная. Но, всё будет.

Хотел написать короткую смешную зарисовку, но душа потребовала обоснуя и меня унесло в сторону мини-сюжета с элементами экшОна и подрыва жоп во всех смыслах. :) Матюки, искромётный йумор Алекса и кислотный сарказм Грейсона присутствуют. Так что надеюсь, если не смешно, то будет хотя бы просто весело.

Отзывы, по желанию, можете оставлять под этим постом (для гостей блок комментариев всё равно закрыт).

Апд: доисправил ошибки, которые изначально не заметил.

~

A new little story about Alex Denton and Grayson Torgeyr in the original language. The text will be translated later.